


these wounds won't seem to heal

by befham



Series: save me from the nothing i've become [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Aunt/Nephew Incest, But fuck that ending, Clothed Sex, Desk Sex, F/M, It's Jon Snow of course there's angst, Mine's way better, Season/Series 08 Spoilers, fuck this whole show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27532684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/befham/pseuds/befham
Summary: “It does not have to be this way,” Jon says gently for he is always gentle, this Jon Snow. Always gentle and concerned and just so so so good.They do not look at him with wary glances or whisper as he passes in the halls. They do not fear him, suspect him of a raging madness that they are convinced will end in their death-It is grief, she assures herself. Grief and nothing more.“Yes, it does. I have lost so much, all for people that despise me. My army, Jorah, Missandei, my children.” Daenerys’s voice breaks and she swallows back a sob. “And now I have lost you. Drogon is all I have left.”There is a long silence thick with longing and betrayal and rage and bitterness and everything until that gruff voice of his softly says, “You have me.”
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: save me from the nothing i've become [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012395
Comments: 17
Kudos: 108





	these wounds won't seem to heal

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this last year sometime, totally forgot to post it because I was probably too busy sulking about spending eight years watching the show just for THAT ending to kick me right in the tits.
> 
> Over a year later and I'm still not over it.
> 
> Set at the start of 8x05 when Jon goes to see Dany and D&D fucked 7 seasons of character growth right up the ass.

“Alright then, let it be fear.”

“You’re not this person, Dany,” Jon says gently, those dark eyes of his watching her warily.  _ He thinks I am mad,  _ she realizes, her heart clenching painfully.  It would be so easy to succumb to the madness that they all expect from her. She is no fool. She has noticed the way Tyrion has been looking at her since she burned the Tarley’s and his sharp stares have only gotten grown over time. 

_ I am grieving!  _ She wishes to shout at him, at Varys and everyone who looks at her in barely concealed concern and fear.

Jorah, Rhaegal, Missandei-

All gone in a blink of an eye.

She wonders sometimes if she should have just stayed in Meereen. She has sacrificed so much for this ungrateful kingdom, and all they do is whisper and spit on her-

She can feel Jon’s judgmental gaze on her, burning every inch of her skin as he assesses her state of mind. “I am not mad,” she breathes, her eyes imploring him to understand, to realize that it is grief that consumes her, not the curse of their family.

_ Is it grief, or is it really madness?  _ Her poisonous mind whispers. 

_ It is grief. Grief grief grief grief- _

“Dany-”

“Do not dare to call me  _ that!” _ Daenerys snaps, the last of her composure vanishing as she looks into those sad pitying eyes. Anger boils her blood, for how dare he, her lover, her nephew, the last of her family, pity  _ her _ \- “You claim that I can only be your Queen, so you shall address me as such.”

“It does not have to be this way,” Jon says gently for he is always gentle, this Jon Snow. Always gentle and concerned and just so so so  _ good. _

They do not look at him with wary glances or whisper as he passes in the halls. They do not fear him, suspect him of a raging madness that they are convinced will end in their death-

_ It is grief, _ she assures herself.  _ Grief and nothing more. _

“Yes, it does. I have lost so much, all for people that despise me. My army, Jorah, Missandei, my children.” Daenerys’s voice breaks and she swallows back a sob. “And now I have lost you. Drogon is all I have left.”

There is a long silence thick with longing and betrayal and rage and bitterness and  _ everything  _ until that gruff voice of his softly says, “You have me.”

Shaking her head, a bitter laugh escapes her mouth, tears trailing down her cheeks as she turns from him and stares into the fire once more. How mad she must look to him! The Mad Queen, tis what they will call her. How far she has fallen for this ungrateful land, these ungrateful people, for a fucking  _ chair _ -

“I have nothing,” she admits to herself, to him. Nothing except her last dragon and her grief-

_ Or is it madness- _

He takes a heavy step forward, his boots echoing against the stone floors as he dares come nearer, but when she looks upon him once more, his face is heartbreakingly sad. “You have me,” he repeats once more, his voice thick with conviction. 

She aches to believe him, to throw herself into his arms and lose herself in him, to forget about the iron throne and the dead and this cursed land. But she knows him, can see the hesitation in his eyes as he avoids touching her and in that moment she wishes more than anything that she had never met this bloody Jon Snow. 

Daenerys knows loss for she has lost more than most, and though she is not one for self pity, she cannot bear to lose Jon bloody Snow.

“I had you,” Daenerys corrects him. “I begged you to hold your tongue and yet the second my back was turned you told her. You chose  _ Sansa  _ before me,” Daenerys says, her voice trembling with rage and sadness.

“Do you think that this is easy for me?” Jon snaps, his patience withering away. “I have learned that my whole life has been a lie. I am a product of a union that caused a war that killed thousands, of course I want to speak to my family about it,” Jon shouts, his voice echoing around the large room.

“You betrayed me,” Daenerys replies coldly, her tone as hard as steel.

“They’re my family!”

“I am your family too!” Daenerys shouts angrily, her rage finally snapping. Oh how she wished to strike him, to hurt him as he has hurt her these past weeks. “You are a Targaryen, no matter how much you wish not to be. The moment you told your cousin your true identity, you forfeited your right to remain simply Jon Snow. You are my nephew, like it or not.”

Jon’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Is that what you wish? To be my aunt and nothing more?”

“The fact that you are my nephew means nothing to me. You could be my brother and I would love you still,” Daenerys replies, a savage thrill going through her at the sight of his flinch. “And if it sickened you half as you believe it does, you would not be in this room with me-”

“It’s wrong, Dany,” Jon says, his voice twisting in anguish, but she could see it now, deep in those dark eyes that he did want this. He wanted  _ her- _

“To you perhaps,” she allows herself to admit softly, and despite it all, Daenerys steps closer to him until only inches separated them. “But we are Targaryens. In another life, we may have even been wed. We would have ruled together, you and I. Had children, a family. Robert Baratheon took that from us, and Ned Stark sealed our fates the moment he claimed you as his own.”

There is a long pause until Jon breaks it, a bitter smile on those full lips of his. “So here we are then,” he says quietly, his voice filled with longing and bitterness. 

She takes his hand in hers, her cold fingers trembling in his. “We could be happy, you and I.”  _ All you have to do is say yes. Please. Please please please- _

“Do you no longer love me?” she demands plainly, though in truth she is terrified of his answer.

“Of course I do,” Jon says harshly, sounding so sure and confident. “You know I do.”

Warm fingers curl around her own, a shaky breath inhaled as his free hand travels down her spine and gently pushes her against his strong chest. A pained sound leaves his throat and Dany can feel it, his resolve breaking bit by bit-

“Dany,” he whispers, and oh how perfect her name sounds on his lips. “Please-”

_ Yes yes yes- _

Her lips tremble, her eyes sting and she vows that this is it. This is the moment where things change for her forever because she cannot do this again. Open herself up to a man who makes her feel so fucking much it  _ hurts.  _

“If you love me as you claim to, then it should mean nothing to you as well.”

And his body stiffens against hers, his full lips turned into a frown and she goes to take a step back, to dismiss him from her presence now and always because she cannot take this anymore. She can’t see him everyday and know that the sight of her sickens him-

But his strong hands curl around her wrists and drag her back to him. “Damn you,” he growls like the wolf he is. “Damn you Dany.” And then he’s kissing her, completely surrounded by him until the whispers of grief and madness disappear and all she can think and feel is  _ him.  _ He may be small, but his body is hard as he pulls her firmly against him, a growl in his throat as his lips claim her own almost violently and she shivers-

Oh, how she has missed this. Missed him-

Daenerys arches against him, her eager hands pulling him closer as one of her hands rakes fingernails over his shoulder and down his spine.

Rough hands paw at her skirts, reaching down to carelessly swoop under her skirts so that he could grip her thighs and boost her onto the tabletop. As Jon sets her down, she hastily begins loosening the ties on front of her dress, her fingers trembling in her effort until she is done and her dress hangs open, baring her breasts for Jon’s eager eyes. 

_ Aunt, nephew, cousin, brother, sister- it matters little to you now Jon Snow- _

Jon’s hands are not gentle when he shoves her backward, forcing her to lay flat. Daenerys pops herself up on her elbows, shooting him impatient, desperate looks. He only takes a second to admire the view before he yanks her thighs toward him, scooting her a few inches over the table.

She fights to help him lift her skirts out of the way as he seeks out her center, his calloused fingers slipping between her thighs and finding her slick with need. Something resembling a groan leaves his throat and he does not waste time preparing her, he has no need to.

Her hands reach for the laces of his breaches, her trembling fingers ungraceful as she takes his already hard cock in the palm of her hand and tightens her fist around him. She strokes him a few times, listening with glee at the hitch in his breath, the flash of those dark eyes and then he’s knocking her hand away and  _ oh- _

In one swift motion, Jon slams his cock into her. Her back arches, a silent cry leaving her lips. She has missed this, craved this, this blissful pleasure that he brings her. There have been men before him -Drogo, Daario- and yet it is only Jon Snow who makes her feel complete, makes her feel whole and  _ equal. _ Perhaps it is because he’s a Targaryen, she cannot bring herself to care, but she can’t let this feeling go, she  _ won’t. _

He does not give her time to adjust, pulling back and slamming back into her with desperate urgency. She fights to keep pace with him, to school her hips in tandem with his.

She bites her lip to stifle a moan as she brings one of her hands down to join the friction between their bodies. She watches a new craving light in his dark eyes as his gaze follows the movement of her fingers. His grip on her legs tightens, the blunt edge of his nails biting into the soft flesh of her thighs as he quickens his pace. There was an almost violent undertone to their coupling and she had almost forgotten how good it can be, how wildly uninhibited and deliciously primitive. This kind of ecstasy is frenzied, unmatched. It is a heat she yearns for, has not realized that she needs it until she thought that she would never feel him inside of her again.

Her fingers speed their pace as she meets his eyes. Jon watches her begin to come undone, his eyes flicking from her face to her chest, watching her breasts jump and jerk with each of his thrusts.

Her face is flushed, her mouth hanging open in that telltale fashion that speaks of pleasure and exertion. Her fingers work furiously now, her body quaking with her upcoming release. He shifts slightly, lifting one of her legs to deepen his angle. Her body arches, his name leaving her lips on a breathy cry.

With his release hastening ever closer, he presses forward so that he is leaning over her, his hands resting on the table on either side of her. Daenerys lifts her chin to capture his mouth with hers as his hips begin to lose their cadency and take on a more jerky form of movement.

“Jon,” she pants breathlessly, rocking her hips and leaning forward to scrape her teeth and tongue along the length of his jaw, and with a cry, Daenerys finds her release, her body trembling with pleasure. She watches with greedy eyes as moments later Jon groans, a deep guttural sound that aches for him to take her again, and then he’s spilling his seed inside of her, his dark eyes focused on her the entire time.

She struggles to catch her breath, her thighs tremble as Jon goes to move but Dany wraps her legs around him tightly, the thought of being parted from him unbearable. Dark eyes soften, a hand coming up to gently push away the hair fallen from her elaborate braid and oh Gods, she loves him. Loves him so much she did not think such a feeling was possible-

“Rule with me,” Daenerys hears herself whispering,  _ pleading _ . 

“What?” Jon asks, looking at her as though she is mad and perhaps she is. In that moment she can see the future she wants, the future she craves more than anything, that makes all of their sacrifices worth it. 

Daenerys takes his hand in hers and implores him to see reason. She sits up and with a sigh, she spreads her legs and hides her wince as Jon slips out of her. She watches him in silence as he tucks his cock away and ties the laces of his breeches. Dany makes no move to hide her nakedness or adjust her skirts, for what else is there to hide from the man before her who has seen every inch of her dark heart and still loved her so? But once his eyes meet hers once more, uncertainty creeps back in as she sees the resolve in his eyes.

“Don’t you see?” she demands, willing herself not to cry, to just beg for this one thing and then never again. “This is the only way all of this does not end in destruction. Marry me. Be my King as I am your Queen.”

“Dany,” Jon sighs, and damn him, but her broken heart breaks a little more.

“I need you,” Daenerys says softly, almost ashamed of the very notion of it. For so long Daenerys has not needed anyone, perhaps since Drogo. She has fought for every little thing she has earned, every title, every inch of the respect that her subjects grant her.

And yet it has all fallen apart the moment she stepped foot on Westeros soil.

_ He’s broken her- _

Jon’s gentle eyes look at her in concern. “I am here, Daenerys.”

But Daenerys shakes her head, the urge to scream at him to just stop and  _ listen- _

“You temper my worst impulses,” Dany said softly, willing him to understand, to believe in her just one last time. “Without you, I am afraid of what I will become. Together, we can bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms. Rule with me,” she demands for what she vows is the last time. _ “Please,” _ she whispers quietly when he makes no move to speak.

“Alright,” he says softly, his eyes a mess of emotions, but the small smile upon his lips is true and Daenerys lets out a surprised breath.

“Truly?” she breathes, not quite daring to hope.

“If it pleases you, my Queen,” Jon says, and then he lets out a laugh as Dany launches herself at him, her lips claiming his as she replies, “You please me greatly, my King.”


End file.
